


Anabasis

by coldthing



Series: Dum Vivimus Vivamus [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Homophobia, M/M, Mental Illness, PTSD, Wintercastle, bi bucky barns, bi frank castle, everyone is bi and poly dammit, frank and bucky are bad at feelings, ill-advised hookups, overtones of stucky, post-ws, pre-punisher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-20 16:10:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13150245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldthing/pseuds/coldthing
Summary: Bucky makes a face, his mouth almost twisting into a snarl, “Probably don’t respect him no more now you know he's a fairy”Frank grunts, it's almost a laugh but it's far too angry. “Lotta guys I served with would still be alive if they knew Captain America was queer”





	Anabasis

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this only half way through Punisher, and I still think it makes sense continuity wise with minimal shoehorning.  
> I suppose I am indebted to [Alex DiCampi](http://alexdecampi.tumblr.com) for some of the germination of this idea  
> As always, my literary aspirations are greater than my talent, please tell me how I'm doing and how I can improve next time on my [Tumblr.](https://radio-halo.tumblr.com)

 

 

   


> _"Sam Wilson, as I live and breathe” Curtis reaches out, grabbing the other man’s forearm in firm shake._  
> 
> _“_ _That you do brother” Sam Wilson smiles, bright and gap toothed, and pulls Curtis into a tight hug._  
> 
> _“_ _Could have fooled me” Curtis says, “You're a big shot now”_  
> 
> _Wilson's smile loses some of its wattage, “That's kind of why I'm here”_  
> 
> _Wilson holds out a photo, a surveillance photo from a train station somewhere, showing an unkempt but clean white man in plain clothes, a few days' worth of beard and several months' worth of hair looking straight at the camera as if challenging it come down there and fight him_  
> 
> _“_ _If you see this guy, please call me”_  
> 
> _“_ _If he comes to me for help, I can’t break confidentiality” Curtis says._  
> 
> _Wilson looks unhappy, “I know what I'm asking you man, but he is dangerous, more dangerous than you can imagine”_  
> 
> _"Yeah?"_  
> 
> _“_ _Yes” Says a voice from the door, a huge white guy is standing there, filling the door with his bulk.  Curtis has seen his face on stamps, collectibles, and a million History Channel specials: Steve goddamn Rogers._  
> 
> _“_ _Captain fucking America” Curtis says, “You are fucking kidding me”_  
> 
> _“_ _I wish I was” Rogers says with a resigned sigh._  
> 
> _Curtis looks at the photo again “So who is this guy?”_  
> 
> _“_ _it's a really long story” Rogers says._  

999 

Frank easily reads him as military, probably special forces, Frank reads him as dangerous, and dangerous in a way that none of other tough guy day laborers at the building site could ever hope to be. He's unkempt but clean, long hair pulled up into a bun and holds his left arm stiffly, like it's probably not real, but it moves well enough and might just be an old injury.  

"Jamie" says the man, holds out his right hand, and Frank shakes it. 

"Pete" Frank says. 

Jamie grins tightly and Frank grins back, they get back to the wonderfully mindless work of destruction in companionable silence. 

The foreman has a soft spot for strays and soldiers down on their luck, and this guy clearly pushes all the right buttons. 

The companionable silence extends to eating lunch on the top of the site, staring out over the city. Jamie nods at Frank, smiles weakly and sits down on a cinder block several arm lengths away, Frank smiles back and not another word is exchanged. They eat in silence together, Frank makes his own sandwiches, but Jamie buys his in a deli in Brooklyn, Frank idly wonders if that's where Jamie is from. 

See Frank can't turn off the killing engine in his head, even at his most content, his most docile that’s the part that’s always assessing and analyzing. That’s the part that read Jamie as dangerous, despite his innocuous appearance and stooped shoulders, and now he can't stop observing the other man out of the corner of his eye, his instincts screaming at him to be ready for an attack. 

Jamie doesn’t make a move, and Frank thinks that somehow Jamie had made the same assessment of Frank and then dismissed him as a non-threat. 

999 

Frank knows the bar is a gay bar, he walks past it every night and on a regular basis some drunken patron will stumble into him and try to cop a feel. Frank always smiles politely at them, and puts them back on their feet.   He worked as a bouncer for the bar a few times, and the staff had been universally kind to him. 

Its Friday and light and sound is beaming out of the open door, the guy at the door waves at Frank and Frank waves back. 

Frank first spots the car belonging to some of the day laborers he doesn’t make much of it, this is on the route back to the highway, and they might just be getting out of one of the other bars along the drag.  

But the car is skulking along, whoever is inside is clearly looking for something and then Frank realizes what they are looking for, they are looking for a bit of rough trade, seems like beating up queers is still a popular pastime. 

The car idles to a stop half a block up from where Frank is, and Frank feels his hackles rise.  They’ve caught some one, a bunch of big day laborers hunting down some nervous kid trying to come to terms with themselves doesn't sit well with Frank. He knows he shouldn’t get involved, he needs to lay low and stay quiet, but Billy had always said he didn’t know how Frank could be such a good soldier, with such an overgrown sense of justice. 

Its Jamie, wrapped up in a green surplus overcoat and a woolly scarf the color of dishwater.  Jamie is staring at the entrance longingly, even though he's clearly just skulking around and not intending to go in. Frank has known a lot of closeted guys, the habit is hard to break even after you get out, and compounded with what a soldier carries home with him, it becomes a daunting task. 

 The guys from the car are closing in on him. Jamie looks to be gearing up for a fight his arms tight against his chest, head tucked down. Jamie looks like he doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t look like he's scared of the fight though, just scared of having to reach out and touch another human that way. To take them apart like that.  

One of the men reaches out, putting his hand roughly into Jamie's long hair which hangs softly down past his chin, yanks it hard, Jamie's body pulling along with it. 

"Are you a faggot? I bet you are with all that pretty hair" the man is saying and then Jamie's hand flashes up, with his right hand he grabs the man by the wrist, pulls then twists, and then brings the man to his knees all with the rotation of his arm and his own body weight.  Frank has seen Russians do that trick, the man's arm is probably broken. 

Another man charges and Jamie side steps a wild punch, blocks another punch, grabs the man’s wrist and then pulls the man into a knee to the stomach before kicking the man’s knee out from under him. There is a crunch of bone and the man goes down holding his leg, as he falls Jamie brings his other knee up under the man’s jaw, cracking it between his knee and the elbow he brings down on top of it. The man slumps into a boneless heap. 

A muscle twitches in Jamie's jaw, and he swallows, Frank sees his left hand close into a fist. His feet shift slightly, getting ready to leap. Until now Jamie has been fighting defensively, but Frank thinks he's getting ready to go to town on anyone right now, provocation or not. 

"Easy kid" Frank holds an arm out, doesn’t touch Jamie, but holds it close enough for Jamie to sense it. "Their morons, beating them senseless isn't going to help anything" 

Jamie turns just slightly, lowering his left shoulder in the direction he's facing and for a moment Frank is very afraid that Jamie is just going to charge the men. 

"But it would make me feel so much better" Jamie says in a low voice "See how much they like being beat senseless by a queer" 

"Won't do anyone any good" Frank says, and he doesn’t let Jamie see the relief in his face when the other man starts to relax in tiny increments. 

Jamie lets go of the man's arm, and it is indeed broken, hanging at an unnatural angle, the man looks at and starts making a mewling wail like a baby. 

Jamie takes a step forward and the men back off nervously, Jamie takes another step and he have the men picking up their wounded and hurrying away. 

Frank looks at Jamie who is standing stiffly and shivering slightly, his hands balled into fists. 

"You alright kid?" Frank asks. 

"You didn't need to help" Jamie says in an unexpectedly deep rough voice, "I could have taken them" 

Frank shrugs, after seeing that disarm, he's quite certain that Jamie  _could_ have taken them, them and however many more came after. 

 "Might not have needed too, still wanted too" Frank says. 

Jamie glowers at him, the expression ages his face in an unexpected way. 

"Come on kid, let me get you a cup of coffee" Frank doesn’t make the mistake of trying to touch Jamie, but instead tilts his head indicating a dinner up the street and starts walking, leaving the decision to follow up to Jamie. 

When Frank doesn’t hear footsteps behind him he glances back, Jamie is gone. 

999 

 Four days later Jamie comes in to the site with a truly spectacular black eye, he ignores the askance looks he gets from the other workers and only favors Frank with a raised eyebrow when Frank gives him an inquiring look. They get down to the business of destruction. 

When lunch rolls around Frank purposefully sits down with in arms reach of Jamie, he lets the other man finish his sandwich in peace before leaning in. 

"the morons do that?" Frank asks, nodding to the black eye. 

Jamie for a moment looks like he's going to bolt, bolt or rip Frank’s head off, could go either way, but then Jamie sighs and drops the crumpled paper from his sandwich onto ground, he looks unimaginable sad.  

"No" he says. “My boyfriend I guess” Jamie sounds unsure of that, why isn’t sure Frank can’t tell, is he worried the relationship is over, or is he worried that there was never a relationship in the first place. 

“I’m sorry” Frank says, “It's not my place to pry, it's just...” He trails off unsure of what to say, this kind of shit was Curtis's territory. 

Jamie looks at Frank then back at his hands, looks like he's going to cry.  

" My ex now I guess" Jamie says quietly then he looks up at Frank seeing Frank's expression twist into something unpleasant.   

 "I put his head through a wall first" Jamie says, his hand out placatingly as if that might make an iota of difference. 

Frank grunts, he doesn’t know what kind of shit Jamie got himself tangled up with Jamie looks like he could give Frank a run for his money in a knockdown drag out brawl, but any guy who Jamie put through a wall and they still got up after to give Jamie that shiner has to be on a whole other level. 

"It's  _really_ not like that" Jamie says, clearly understanding Frank's line of thought. 

" _Can you explain it to me what it's like_?" Frank says with more harshness than he intends too and Jamie flinches. Frank isn't even sure he wants to know what kinds of fresh hell Jamie is involved in, isn't sure he wants to get involved, but knows he has too anyway. 

" _Not really_ " Jamie says helplessly, and he looks like he's going cry all over again, wiping his snotty nose on the cuff of his hoodie like a little kid who could probably kill a man with his bare hands. 

"It's over now anyway" Jamie says.  

Frank still loved a man, loved him in the same say he still loved his wife, grieving for the distance between them even though Billy was on the other side of the city and Maria was in heaven. 

"I know even with don't ask don't tell, it was really rough " 

"You don't even understand the half of it, you think it was bad, it was..." Jamie swallows off the rest of his words, and looks away like he's said too much, given too much away, violated some self-imposed limit. 

Frank sighs, rubs the back of his neck, he is bad at this he will admit that. 

"I don't know your situation man," Frank says "but I remember what it was like, lying in a tent next to the guy who who's skin you wanted to crawl into so much it was like breathing, and not even knowing what that meant"  

Jamie takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and then opens them again. "Worse is when you know what it means, and he's so goddamn close you could touch him, but that would ruin everything" 

"Yeah" Frank agrees, thinks about that one time Billy kissed him on the mouth, both of them kneeling behind a wall that had probably been built centuries before , the potential of death looming ahead of them and  Billy had grabbed Frank by the scruff of his neck and pulled him in, tongue forcing into Frank's mouth and before Frank knew what was going on  he was kissing Billy back, his grubby hands against Billy’s chin, pulling him closer and eating up his breath. Suddenly the pressure that had been building in the back of Frank's head for months now made some kind of sense. 

Then a grenade landed a few feet away spattering them both with rock shards and mud and the moment was over. 

They never spoke of it, despite some kind of mutual understanding of its significance and how important it was that nothing ever come of it. 

Jamie swallows again, scrubs at his eyes and straightens up, he only comes up to Frank's chin, but the sheer presence of his broad shoulders make him seem huge and imposing.  

"Sorry Pete" Jamie says "You don't need to hear my bullshit" 

"No, it's ok kid" Frank reaches out gingerly, moves slowly and let's Jamie see him as he touches Jamie's left shoulder. Under the layers of jacket and shirts he can feel the hard ridge of some kind of prosthetic and Jamie flinches like he's trying very hard not to pull away. 

Frank gently pulls him into a hug, careful of the prosthetic, he holds the other man close. 

Jamie stiffens, but let's himself be hugged, until something seems to crack inside him, and he sags into Frank's arms. 

999 

"Wait kid, I want to talk to you" Frank catches up with Jamie after the shift is over. 

Jamie stops up short, almost making Frank run into him,  its dark out and Frank and Jamie are probably the only ones left on the site. 

Jamie holds a hand up, puts a finger to his lips for silence and then peers around the fence, Frank follow him, stepping carefully on the gravel.  

“Morons” Jamie says. He points at the group of men standing around the sports car on the other side of the road, Frank recognizes two of them, but the rest are unfamiliar. It’s a much larger group than last time. 

“You put two of their friends in the hospital” Frank says. 

“I should have put all of them in the hospital” Jamie replies, voice even and calm. 

“wouldn’t have solved anything” Frank tells Jamie again.  Frank’s killing machine likes the idea of killing the morons, killing them for their crude clumsy attempts at violence, killing them because they dared challenge Jamie. Frank’s killing machine recognizes a fellow predator, weakened, licking its wounds, but still the highest thing on the food chain and Frank wants it for himself. 

“Would have made me feel better” Jamie replies. “Lots better, and they are here for me, so you should clear off Pete” Jamie says. 

“You make it sound like it wouldn’t make me feel just as good too to put those morons in the hospital” Frank replies.  

Jamie glances back, raises an eyebrow, looking at Frank not as a predator assessing a rival, but as a man who likes what he sees. 

“Would it?” Jamie asks, voice lowering. 

Frank feels his breath catch as a weird little thread of warmth kindles in his chest. “Yeah” He says. 

Jamie cocks his head to the side, expression softening “You should clear off Pete” He says again “They are after me, no need for you to get hurt too.” 

“I’ll be fine” Frank says.  

Jamie’s mouth quirks to the side, his gaze returning to its predatory assessment of Frank. “Yeah, your right, you’ll be fine” Jamie says, “but it’s still my fight” 

“It shouldn’t be just your fight” Frank says, “Shouldn’t be a fight at all, but what can you do?” 

“Hurt them” Jamie says. 

The car comes out of nowhere, hits Jamie going at least 40mph, there is an audible thump as Jamie hits the hood, then the window and then his body flops to the side like a rag doll, the car continues on for a few yards before stopping and then begins to back up. Come back for another pass and back over Jamie’s prone body. 

Jamie gets to his feet, rolls his shoulders as if to get a crick out of his neck. His face is all cut up from scraping it against the pavement, and blood is streaming down his chin from his nose, but he shrugs confidently as he side steps the car as it rolls past, as it does he reaches out and rips the driver’s side door right off the hinges like its cardboard. 

The car rolls to a halt, the driver too astonished to keep his foot on the gas, Jamie strides over and pulls the man out of the car, holding him up one handed before turning around and smashing the man’s head on the hood of his own car. 

The man’s head bounces off the metal with a sound like a watermelon hitting pavement and then he slithers down the side of the hood unconscious. Frank hears Jamie scoff in disappointment.  Jamie reaches for the rear door and rips that off its hinges with the same careless ease that he had the first, Jamie tosses the door aside like it’s nothing and leans in to get into the car. 

The other two men in the car, vacate it on the other side and Frank can hear them stumbling and scrambling to get away in the darkness. 

Jamie kicks the car, the heavy frame rattling and shifting it almost five feet. Then he steps forward and reaches for the hood, fingers gripping under the rim and rips that off the car too. Jamie hurls it like a discus at the fleeing men, but it's too dark and the car hood is poorly balanced. Frank hears it crash into a wall somewhere, and the fleeing footsteps continue undeterred. 

Jamie turns back to Frank grinning a wide inviting grin, its more expression than Frank has ever seen on his face before and Frank feels a warmth in his belly that he thought was gone for good. Jamie jerks his head towards the fleeing men as if asking Frank to come hunting with him, and god damn it Frank wants to  

Instead Frank says, "Feel better kid?"  he lets himself uncoil and relax. 

"You have no fucking idea man" Jamie says. 

"You wanna go back to my place" Frank asks before he can stop himself. “You’re not gonna catch them, we can come back when its light, and I’ll help you track them” 

Jamie strokes his long hair out of his face his grin changing into something a little less animal. “I’m a better tracker than you can believe Pete” 

"I got some nice 20-year-old whiskey" Frank says in case his intentions hadn't been clear the first time. 

 Jamie seems torn for a moment, indecision snaking its way across his face, he desperately wants to go hunt down the men who tried to hurt him, but it's also clear to Frank that Jamie knows that that isn’t a good idea. 

“Please kid” Frank says. “Come home with me” 

"Love to" Jamie finally purrs, and then snake fast he's in Frank's space, powerful muscular arms around Frank's neck, and he's kissing Frank on the mouth, wet and hot and desperate. Frank tastes blood, and grit and wants more. 

"Need to get you cleaned up kid" Frank pulls away, blood from Jamie's face is everywhere, and Frank wipes his fingers through it, wiping it on the front of Jamie's hoodie. 

"Your place" Jamie asks. 

"Yeah" 

999 

Jamie doesn’t need much patching up, when Frank washes the blood away from Jamie's face, the damage doesn’t look bad at all, the scrapes are raw and an angry red, but the edges are clean but now that Frank is tending to them they should heal without any significant scaring. 

"Your neck ok kid?" Frank asks, when Jamie had been hit by the car it looked like it had snapped his head back in a way that might not have been survivable. 

Jamie rubs his neck, fingers caught in his long hair "Neck is fine Pete, I'm fine, you don't have to baby me" 

Frank chuckles as he finishes a neat line of butterfly bandages on Jamie's cheek. "I like babying things" Frank says, puts his own hand in Jamie's hair and pulls Jamie into a kiss, pulling Jamie on to his lap so that Jamie is balancing on Frank's knee. 

They kiss again, and Frank pours some more of the whiskey. Its excellent and it had better be, he had looted it from a mobster on a whim.  it’s good, warm and smoky and he can feel the smell of it pressing against his soft pallet even after he’s swallowed. He trades the cup to Jamie who finishes what Frank had poured before handing it back to Frank to be refilled. 

Its Jamie's turn to chuckle "You remind me of an old friend of mine, moron couldn't stand to see anyone hurt" Jamie pulls back slightly, looking down cloaking his expression in his screen of dark hair. It's supposed to be cute, coquettish, Frank reaches out, strokes the hair back and Jamie smiles weakly at him. 

"Sounds like a decent guy" Frank says as he finally manages to land that kiss, Jamie's mouth still tastes like blood. 

"The best" Jamie says, lets himself be kissed, lets Frank control the kiss, gets to his feet when Frank stands up and lets Frank herd him over to the bed. 

Jamie reaches up, presses his fingers against Frank's cheeks fingertips digging into the beard 

Frank pushes Jamie onto the bed, crawls up over him, holds Jamie down as they kiss. 

Jamie pulls his jacket off, then his hoodie, revealing another layer of fabric, Jamie suddenly pauses, like he just remembered that he's trying to hide something. 

 There's something wrong with Jamie's left hand, its discolored and the palm is cold and hard, Frank remembers the hard ridge of something he had felt when he had hugged Jamie; Frank was right, the arm wasn't real. 

"You think I'm gonna be grossed out by this" Frank taps on Jamie's forearm with a knuckle, whatever is under Jamie's shirt doesn’t have the give of flesh, but doesn’t feel hollow like plastic or carbon fiber might either. 

"It’s worse than anything you can imagine" Jamie says. 

"l can imagine quite a bit" Frank says, tightening his grip around Jamie's forearm. Whatever the arm is made of, its hard and unforgiving. Frank has seen amputated limbs many times, and in many different phases of healing, including freshly blown off lying two feet away with the boot still on, Jamie has good use of the left arm, so it must be an older injury.  

 Jamie hesitates before gripping the hem of his shirt and peeling it up over his chest and shoulders, he tosses it aside and sits there, hands on his hips as expecting Frank's judgment.  

The arm is worse than anything Frank could imagine, Jamie's shoulder is a mass of scar tissue, the damage catastrophic and the repair work rushed and shoddy looking, but Jamie's prosthetic arm is something else entirely.  Its silver, segmented the carapace of an insect, a red star in enamel on the shoulder, its beyond state of the art.  

"Alright kid, you got me" Frank says, he reverently closes his hand around Jamie's shoulder, runs it down the metal forearm, feeling the plates shift under his palm. "I did not imagine this" 

"Do you want to know how I got it?" Jamie asks as something unhappy flashes across his face, but he smooths it away. 

"Not particularly" Frank says.  

That seems to have done the trick, Jamie relaxes.  

Frank stares at Jamie’s arm, and Frank thinks this reveal deserves a secret of its own.  

“Frank” Frank says. “my name is Frank Castle”  

Jamie huffs in amusement, then laughs, he clearly recognizes the name, still he seems undeterred from curling into Frank’s embrace. 

“James, James Barns, nice to meet you” Jamie says. 

Frank recognizes that name, but does his best not to show it and ruin the moment, the moment he had seen Jamie pull that door off the car like it was nothing Frank suspected something about Jamie wasn't on the level. The city has become a much stranger place in recent years, and Frank is beginning to realize that he’s just a part of that strangeness now. 

“Do I still call you Jamie?" Frank asks, their noses are still touching, breath warm in such close quarters. 

It's been so long since either of them was held or touched gently, it's a strange experience, slightly unpleasant in the way new things often are, but the hug isn’t new, it's just been so long. 

"Bucky" 

There’s a long weird slightly awkward fumble to get the rest of their clothes off, Frank approvingly runs the palms of his hands over all the impossibly dense muscle on Bucky’s chest and up the ridge of scar tissue around his prosthetic. 

The arm is terrifying and horrible, but such intimacy with a weapon is somehow incredibly hot. 

Bucky shoves Frank backwards onto the narrow bed, there's no way that they will fit side by side and Bucky crawls into Frank lap straddling his thighs. Frank makes an approving noise as he reaches to grab Bucky's ass. It's a nice ass, he gets a good handful of it. 

 Frank touches the scant softness at the bottom of Bucky's rib cage, and Bucky giggles, twisting to the side trying to get Frank to stop tickling him. 

The sudden unexpected smile looks good on him, takes years off his face.  

“You are too cute” Frank says, unable to stop the words from coming out. Cute isn't the word he wants but it’s the first one that comes to mind to describe the surprise he feels when this man, who's both a legend and a weapon and is sitting in Frank's lap grins like a dork.  

Bucky raises an eyebrow, he's squirming in Frank's lap as he tries to get his boots off, Frank's dick is hard against his belly, and he swallows back a grunt as Bucky finally gets the boot of with a particularly forceful thrust of his hips, bringing their cocks together. 

"Fuck, slow down, let me get a look at you baby" Frank says. 

Bucky smirks at him, somehow the expression makes him look more like the cocky confident hero from the movies rather than the nervous veteran that Frank had first met. Frank likes this a lot better. 

“Do you want to fuck me?” Bucky asks suddenly, his eyes have gone heavy lidded. 

Frank doesn't know what he wants right now, he wants to do everything, he's not sure when he lost control of his life like this.  

“Oh, I want to do so many things to you baby” Frank says. “You have no idea”  

Bucky bites his lip coquettishly, it’s an incongruous expression, but it’s so in character for the man that the media and the history channel specials had created for Bucky to step into and put to his own use. 

Frank laughs, strokes his hand down the planes of Bucky’s stomach, fingers gentle against all the dense tightly cored muscle, everything soft has been pared away from Bucky, he's pure soldier. 

Bucky’s cock is hard against Frank’s stomach and Frank gets his hand around it, cradling it in his palm, smoothing the foreskin up and over the head then back down. Bucky has the faintest little crosshatch of scars here, and Frank rubs his thumb over the scar tissue, and Bucky shivers a little. 

"So, do you want to fuck or not?" Bucky asks and all of Frank is suddenly on board with that idea.  It's been a long time since he was with a guy, women are his usual, but there have been guys who’ve caught his eye in the past. In the long boredom of a tour Frank got good at figuring out who would be amenable, and Bucky hits all of the buttons he had liked pushed in a guy. Dark hair, smaller than Frank, dangerous as fuck. 

“Well?” Bucky asks. 

Frank roots through the bedside table, finds a condom, finds a mostly empty packet of KY, tosses them both to Bucky who catches them easily in one hand. 

Bucky’s fingers are gentle, but cold as he strokes Frank’s cock, pulling the condom down over the head, smoothing the lube over it before he reaches behind himself and starts to work himself open. 

Frank reaches to help, or at least to get another handful of that ass, but Bucky swats his hands around, Frank ends up just grabbing the firm globes of Bucky's ass. 

Bucky bottoms out on Frank’s cock in one stroke his mouth falling open with a gasp, his head tipped back, thighs shuddering. He is very still for a long moment, sniper still, then he rolls forward. 

“Fuuck” Frank manages startled by the sudden rush of sensation and pressure “Easy baby, easy, slow down” Frank has to grab Bucky’s hips to keep himself steady. “I’m not a super soldier or whatever you are.” 

Bucky is panting, grinning, “feels pretty super to me” he rolls his hips experimentally, grinding down, and Frank has to bite his lip to stop himself from embarrassing himself. 

Frank looks up at this ancient weapon that’s riding him like he might not want to survive the experience. He puts his hands against Bucky's stomach, feels the muscles moving, the human parts, but the machine parts flex and pull with each motion of Bucky's hips too.  

Bucky puts his prosthetic hand on Frank's throat, almost cutting his air off, pressing down just hard enough that Frank starts to feel a bit lightheaded.  Frank’s own hands are digging into Bucky's hips trying to hold on to him, and there will probably be finger shaped bruises all over Bucky’s hips when they are all done here. 

Bucky is suddenly gasping like he's drowning, and Frank has to let go of Bucky's hips and grab on to the sheets to keep himself steady. Cum splatters up Frank’s chest, wetness flecking against his chin. 

Bucky slumps forward, resting his forehead against Frank’s and the tension leaves his limbs.  Frank puts his hand against the back of Bucky’s neck, holds his limp body tightly, Bucky’s cheek against his shoulder, as he chases his own finish, cock thrusting in and out of Bucky's newly pliant body until he finishes with a grunt. 

They stay that was for a few seconds, panting before Frank finally makes a disgusted noise and shifts Bucky off his lap, separating them. Frank pulls the condom off his dick, ties it and makes a valiant attempt to throw it in the trash across the room. 

“Pathetic” Bucky murmurs, he's curling into the covers next to Frank, making himself comfortable. 

“Fuck you” Frank says. 

Bucky does not rise to the bait, he looks like he might already be asleep. 

Frank isn’t going to begrudge him that, but right now Frank just content to lie on his back with his arm around a truly scary guy who's all fuzzy and sleepy eyed because Frank just fucked him stupid, and Frank is just going to relax and count the cracks on his ceiling.  

Frank wakes from some of the best sleep he's had in years, apparently sleeping with a legendary assassin draped across his chest calms and quiets the part of him that kills. 

Its fucked up and Frank knows it, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, when he senses Frank moving he turns his head, one eye opening, then closing and Frank knows he has been evaluated as  _not a threat_. 

This isn't love, Frank knows it isn't, so does Bucky, but it isn't betrayal either, this is warmth, and soft touches, the feel of another human being nearby, feeling protected. They both  _get it_ , how hard it is to come back to the human part of yourself. 

They both lie there in silence for a few more minutes before Frank’s bladder decides it's time to get up. 

“You want some coffee?” Frank asks as he hobbles across the cold apartment, he's sore and he can feel the heat of bruises around his throat. Frank doesn’t wait for an answer before filling the machine and setting it to brew. 

Bucky scoffs disapprovingly, and burrows his head under the blankets that are still warm and bunched up where Frank had abandoned them. 

When Frank comes out of the bathroom the coffee is finished and Bucky is rifling in his fridge. He's pulled his jeans back on, but he's still barefoot and very clearly has no briefs on under the jeans, it makes him seem very young and vulnerable somehow, more vulnerable than he had seemed completely naked. 

“You have no milk” Bucky says glancing up as Frank comes in. 

“Nope” says Frank. 

Bucky gives him a peevish look, with his long hair and beard he looks very little like the clean-cut smiling young man in the history books, or even the dashing hero from the movies.  

“Stop looking at me like that” Bucky says testily, “like you want to ask me stupid questions” 

“Hah!” Frank says. He finds two clean-ish cups and pours coffee into them, hands one to Bucky, and keeps one for himself. 

Bucky retreats to the bed, climbs back onto it, the mattress creaking under his weight and he looks down in his coffee.  

The silence hangs, they stare at each other, Frank looking expectant, Bucky looking doubtful. 

“So, you're  _the_ Bucky Barns” Frank finally says. “ _Captain America’s right-hand man_ ” his voice automatically finds some of the sing-song tune from one of the many jingles that been created during of the war. 

“It's complicated” Bucky says.  

“Tell me something that isn’t complicated these days?” 

Bucky is quiet again “fine, ask your stupid questions Frank” he finally says, and sips his coffee. "I guess you deserve some answers" 

“No stupid questions” Frank says, “Your Bucky Barns, I don't know any boy who didn’t want to be you as a kid” 

“Morons” Bucky says. 

“Hell man, we all worshiped Steve Rogers, I knew a guy who signed up just because he was the ultimate Cap fanboy, wanted to stand where Cap had stood and shit.”  

Frank sounds a little embarrassed, the Stanley Kramer biopic from 1967 had been his dad’s favorite movie and while he could probably quote whole scenes from memory, he hadn’t been as bad as  _that guy._  

Bucky makes a face, his mouth almost twisting into a snarl, "Probably don’t respect him no more now you know he's a fairy” 

Frank grunts, it's almost a laugh but it's far too angry. “Lotta guys I served with would still be alive if they knew Captain America was queer” 

Bucky does laugh at that, "That’s a thing now isn't it" 

"I don't know" Frank says.  

" Queer was something you did, not something you were,” Bucky looks unhappy. He had seemed so young to Frank that this was a weird reminder of just what kind of world he had been born into. Frank had been calling him kid, and son without thinking about it but Bucky is old enough to be his grandfather. 

“but I like dames well enough, pretty and all soft and curvy, you just had to touch them, but I don't think loved any of them, not the way I love Steve." Bucky pauses "but I always knew Steve was eventually going to find the perfect girl who could see past all his bullshit" 

"Ah, the legendary Peggy Carter" Frank says. "Vanessa Redgrave won a fuck ton of awards for that role" 

Bucky makes a face, mock serious, "Why Frank Castle, I thought you weren't a fanboy." 

Frank laughs "No one thought Peter O’Toole could nail that American accent.” 

They both break down giggling, but then the moment of levity is gone, and Bucky sinks back into contemplative silence.  

Bucky makes a snuffling noise, Frank hopes he isn't crying, Frank isn't sure he knows how to deal with that. 

" I couldn't bring myself to hate her, she was as bullheaded as Steve," Bucky says finally "like they were made for each other" 

Frank considers, "I love Maria and I love Billy and sometimes I wish to god that I made sense of that in my head in time" 

"Yeah, I wish I figured out Steve loved me the same as he loved Peggy.”.." 

" Love is fucking stupid" Frank says. 

“Yeah” Bucky says. 

 


End file.
